Picture Book
by GrayBlaze13
Summary: Dean is a demon, and Sam is trying to get through to him, to make him remember his humanity. How better to do it than show him pictures of their past, from when they were brothers? Tag to 10x3 Soul Survivor.


All rights go to Supernatural. Thank you so much to Crimson Eyed Sakura for beta-ing this! The title is a song by the Kinks. You should listen to them. :) Please read and review.

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Sam stumbled through the doorway and collapsed heavily on his bed. A piercing headache was starting behind his eyes. He groaned and shut his eyes tight, trying to fight the pain and exhaustion he'd been feeling for the past... However long it had been since he'd walked into Dean's room and found him missing. Gone. With only four hastily scribbled words as evidence his brother had ever lain dead in that room.

Sam slowly let out a deep breath and tried to calm his screaming thoughts. In, and out. In, an out. He was really and truly exhausted, physically and emotionally. It would be so easy to just curl up and fall asleep right now...

But he couldn't, because Dean was currently chained to a chair in the middle of the devil's trap in the dungeon. Because he was a demon. A demon. Dean Winchester was a freaking demon. And Sam had to fix him. Had to save him. He had no other choice. It was the least he could do, the very least, after everything that had happened that past year, after every harsh word Sam had hurled at his brother, after every time he ignored him, shunned him, pushed him away. It was just that Sam had felt so betrayed by Dean, and he had been so angry. He had a right to be, he knew that, but Dean had been struggling himself as well.

The Mark. The Mark of Cain had turned his brother into a monster, a weapon, into something wholly not Dean. And then it had turned him into a demon. The very thing the Winchesters hunted. If only Sam had been a little more caring, a little less harsh toward Dean, he may have never gotten the Mark. He may never have felt so alone and angry at Sam. He had worked with Crowley, of all people. Of course that had pissed Sam off, but it also hurt him that his brother didn't ask for his help. Sam might not have given it to him, but still.

Sam knew it wasn't fair to blame himself entirely, but he couldn't help feeling like it was his fault. He'd pushed Dean away when he needed him most, and look where it got them. Dean, tied to a chair, and Sam injecting him with human blood. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. But since when had a hunter's life ever been fair? If anyone's was, Sam never knew about it.

He sighed. Thinking about these things wasn't going to help himself, or Dean. So he just lay there, focusing on his breaths, trying to think about nothing at all, until his hour was up. He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, massaging his forehead with a tired hand. It was time. Again  
…...

Torture. That was the best way to describe it. Absolute torture.

Being with Dean, seeing Dean like that... Sam hated it. And that last injection had been even worse. Dean had looked at him with those black eyes and told Sam how useless he was. How much Dean hated him, hated taking care of him.

Sam hated how Dean's words got to him. How he could believe they were true. Because his brother was saying them, and Sam trusted his brother, loved him. Even after everything, they were still brothers. But he couldn't trust Dean now, he kept telling himself. He couldn't believe him, couldn't let those words get to him.

But they did. They were rooted inside him, like a fishhook deep in his skin – one that he couldn't pull out, no matter how hard he tried. Because there was truth in some of Dean's words. And Dean knew that, knew just what buttons to push to bring Sam closer to the edge. He was a demon, and demons were liars. They lived for discord and chaos, but this demon had been Sam's brother once, too. He knew Sam's worst fears, his greatest desires, and he knew how to use them against Sam.

That got Sam thinking. Dean remembered everything from their past. His view had just changed. A lot. What if there was a way to make Dean not only remember, but feel? Feel what he had lost, remember what it was like to be human, to care. It was a long shot, Sam knew, but it just may help to bring Dean back from the edge.

What constituted as a happy memory for them? Sam pondered this as he looked through his room. There weren't many living the life that they did, but they had them. Sam's gaze swept the barren room. There wasn't much here that brought back anything for Sam, good or bad. He hadn't exactly made it look very homey... Another thing Dean had hated.

Sam gave himself a mental shake. This line of thought couldn't lead anywhere good. Then, he remembered something... His eyes alighted his desk drawer. There was something in there... He pulled open the drawer, and there it was. A photograph. One of himself and Dean, the day he got his soul back. Sam hadn't known that at the time, of course. He'd woken up in his bed, his last memory being of jumping into the pit. He'd rushed downstairs to find Dean and Bobby in the kitchen. Sam had been so damn happy to see them. He didn't remember hell, or coming back without a soul, but it felt like he hadn't seen either of them in a long, long time. They'd opened up a few beers and sat at the kitchen table, just talking and laughing like old times. Bobby had snapped the picture of them while Sam was smiling, Dean was laughing at something Sam said.

As Sam stared at the photo, lost in thought, he was surprised to realize that he was crying. He wiped the tears away, annoyed. This was a happy memory. He would probably remember that as one of the happiest days of his life. After Sam had learned the full story about what actually happened that day, he thought it might be one of Dean's, too. And there was a chance, just maybe, that Dean would see this picture, and remember what it was like to be human, to be with his brother. But one picture wasn't enough.

Sam walked quickly to Dean's room. The hour was almost over, and Sam didn't want to be late. He found what he was looking for almost the second he stepped through the doorway. There, on the nightstand, was a picture of Mary, and another picture of him and Sam. Mary looked so young in the picture, so happy and full of life. Sam grabbed the picture and checked his watch. The hour was up. He went to face Dean, this time armed with these photos from a better time and place. And he hoped they might just be enough to make Dean feel, to make him remember, just what it was like to be Sam's brother.


End file.
